


The Man Formerly Known As James Buchanan Barnes

by Little_Queen_of_Dreams



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (not code for anything), M/M, What happened to Bucky?, plums
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24083005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Queen_of_Dreams/pseuds/Little_Queen_of_Dreams
Summary: He and Steve had looked out for Barnes until a point when they'd completely exhausted their search.Bringing back monsters only gets you hurt.So, they went on with life, staying out of the spotlight, and piecing what little life they had back together.In theory, Steve would move on.However, theory has never met Steve Rogers.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Original Female Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson, Original female character(s) & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, original female character(s) & Sam Wilson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6





	1. Her

**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this for a friend and thus so, should be posting around once a week.
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments/kudos greatly appreciated!

In theory, the apartment belonged to him and Steve. 

In reality, it belonged to him, Steve, and Natasha. 

She'd gone off a while after S.H.I.E.L.D had fallen, returning after a few weeks hungry, bruised, and refusing to talk about what the hell had happened. 

That should have troubled them, but they knew Natasha well and knew she'd tell them if it was important. 

So they let the matter be pushed aside, ignored in favor of clearly more important matters, like the chore chart. 

Because even though they were veterans and spies, no one liked doing laundry. 

He and Steve had looked out for Barnes until a point when they'd completely exhausted their search. 

Everything was put on a flash drive and monitored, until the day it disappeared. 

He'd mailed it, sent it to someone who might be able to decipher the mess of puzzle pieces. 

And, like Natasha’s hiatus, they let the matter drop.

Bringing back monsters only gets you hurt. 

So, they went on with life, staying out of the spotlight, and piecing what little life they had back together. 

In theory, Steve would move on.

However, theory has never met Steve Rogers. 

He got the texts a few weeks after he mailed the flash drive, each staggered a while.

_Looking -AM_

_Hard to track- AM_

_Found a location - AM_

_Made contact, more scared than violent -AM_

_definitely still volatile -AM_

He was pretty sure Natasha was getting her own texts, but she kept her secrets. 

He'd asked who the “AM” was. All Steve had said was:

“I'm not really sure, she's confusing.”

Sam had just raised an eyebrow. “You trust her?”

“She knew Peggy.” The way he said ‘knew’ made Sam wonder how exactly she had known Carter. 

Theoretically, this would be something that would eventually be understood in the simplest way possible. 

Reality, as it happened, was a bit different. 

The texting from the mysterious AM continued more frequently. 

_Safe -AM_

_I've got him safe -AM_

_STEVEN RESPOND ALREADY -AM_

_I get u don't want to so it's not traced, but dear god! -AM_

_Are u dead? - AM_

_Because that's not in the canon -AM_

_Natasha says ur not dead -AM_

_BECAUSE SHE RESPONDS -AM_

_Fine -AM_

_I'll be there soon-AM_

Soon happened to mean that Thursday afternoon. 

At least, that's when he noticed the kid on the fire escape. 

A form-fitting black coat did its best to hide the bright red of her sweater from the viewer. She sighed, small frame, leaning against the window, causing her blonde hair to be pulled along with the wind. She was the sort of person who you'd barely notice in the subway, except for the crown that is. 

He tentatively knocked on Natasha's door. He could hear her sigh, opening it up to show the mess of gym equipment she insisted on having. “What do you need?”

Sam gestured towards the window. “I think there's someone for you?”

She followed his gaze, eyes widening. “Sure, that's for me. Can you get Rogers?”

He knocked on Steve's door, eavesdropping on the conversation between her and the girl. 

“You know we have a door.” He couldn't tell if Natasha sounded annoyed or amused. 

He heard the scrape of the window opening and someone stepping through. “Doors are boring. Besides, people see you with doors.”

“And they don't see you with fire escape?”

“You'd be surprised.” 

“Sam,” Steve raised his eyebrows, door open, “Do you need something?”

He mutely pointed to where the girl with the crown was now perched, rifling through an old army green backpack. 

His reaction mirrored Natasha's, eyes widened in a mixture of astonishment and fear, followed by the same clamour to the window. 

“Are you sure no one saw you?” 

She rolled her eyes. “No, I notified three news stations and the police. Yes, I'm sure.”

He sighed, sinking into a stool. “We can never be too careful.”

“I am careful.” 

“I didn't say you weren't.”

“Who are you?” The bickering was cut short, all eyes falling on Sam. “I know Steve and Natasha trust you, but why should I?”

A coy smile curved its way upon her lips. “You can call me Alice.”

“Is that your name?” He squinted, “or code for something.”

“It's one of my names.”

“How did you know Peggy?”

She laughed, staring at Steve. “That's what you told him? We're not even sure about Angie.”

“That's what you told me when you broke into my apartment.”

“I didn't technically break in.”

Natasha cut them off. “She's AM, codename Royal. I know her because her mother made it a point to establish herself to Fury, just vague enough not to be properly documented on any actual files.”

“So, you're special?”

The grin widened. “Special enough for this.” Carefully, she pulled a folder out of her bag and slid it across the table to Steve. He lowered his eyes, examining it.

“You found him.” The sentence was barely more than a whisper, shakily muttered by someone who was used to having hope only for it to be dashed away. 

“The one and only.” She savored the words. “He needs a visit.”

Sam looked at the contents over Steve's shoulder. Notes, pictures, detailings, on-

“James.” Natasha's eyes glowed. “He's safe.”

“What did you expect? You called in me, after all.”

“How on earth did you find him?”

“Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was what came after.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this one is pretty short. 
> 
> Please let me know if you want more because I have a ton of it written and around eight other stories I'm also writing (if you haven't noticed already, I'm about as functional as an eight year old hyped up on sugar).
> 
> I will be posting this (kinda) weekly, seeing as I'm writing it for a friend and it makes her happy. 
> 
> (Seeing as we're living in a sadder form of the apocalypse, there's not a lot of that nowadays and I want to spread as much as I can)

“Are you sure you found him?” Perched at the window of their motel room, Amy sounded worried. “We don't want what happened last time to happen again.”

Alice glared at her. “Trust me. I've used everything I got. This is it.”

“I can't see him.” She squinted through the binoculars. “Maybe he's out?”

“I doubt it,” she stared down at her from her place against the wall. “It's getting dark and he doesn't exactly trust himself.”

“And you're sure this isn't illegal?” 

“Illegal, yes. Immoral, no.” Alice grabbed the binoculars. “They're going to catch up to him soon enough, we need to get him to safety.”

Amy snatched them back. “How do you expect to convince him?”

“Not sure yet,” Alice paced around the small space, “probably what I did with Steve.”

“Break into his apartment and force feed him ravioli?”

She scoffed. “I didn't force feed him anything, though I did make him watch the Emperor’s New Groove.”

“I'm not so sure that'll work with this one.” 

She rolled her eyes. “What do you propose we do, exactly?”

“Contact Nat?”

“No,” Alice crouched onto the bed, pulling a file out of an old, ratty backpack. “It goes against canon, and I want to do this on my own.”

“Offer plums?” She raised an eyebrow at her friend’s expression. “What else do we have?”

Alice pondered the idea. “It's not like we have anything better to do.”

That was the reason the man formerly known as James Buchanan Barnes (and the Winter Soldier) opened his door a few minutes later to find a basket of fruit. His training told him this was most likely poisoned and sent by enemies, but his Bucky told him it was free food. 

Bucky won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!
> 
> (I have an awful memory and have just started watching Kaley Cuoco's animated Harley Quinn along with rewatching Parks and Rec for the fourth time).
> 
> YAAAAAAAAAY Quarantine!
> 
> (kudos and comments are graciously accepted and provide joy)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ya go!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated!
> 
> Thank you for all of you that read this!
> 
> Please let me know what you like, dislike, and any ideas you may have.
> 
> (Feel free to email me!)

_ The man formerly known as James Buchannan Barnes was currently in what could be qualified a ‘sticky’ situation.  _

_ Whatever forms of ID he had were either stolen or badly forged, making it tough for him to apply for an actual job or anywhere that took more than a cursory glance at it.  _

_ Thankfully, he'd found himself at the dingiest most decrepit part of Brooklyn where no one actually cared whatever the hell you were doing as long as you paid rent.  _

_ Odd jobs were easy enough to come by. His athletic stature alone gave him plenty of heavy lifting jobs, and if you didn’t have actual federal identification they didn’t have to pay you minimum wage.  _

_ Between them and answering ads for dog walkers, he could say he had just enough to afford a studio in an old, mildew ridden building that had no idea what building codes were. The walls were paper thin (along with the ceiling and the floor, he might add) and the power and water seemed to be taking turns for who got to function, but it was a roof over his head devoid of any other people who might ask who he was or how he was doing. _

_ So, it worked well enough for him. _

_ Whatever money wasn’t spent on rent or food went to the occasional trip to goodwill for (relatively) decent looking clothes and whatever was cheap in their clearance section that he might require. _

_ It was there that he’d found his journal, underneath a whisk and a broken ‘live laugh love’ sign, $0.49 for a used leather notebook with a third of its pages missing. _

_ That was the journal he used to remember. _

_ He couldn’t exactly count on his memory to remain steadfast and dependable, so he recorded each of the smallest details he could recall. _

_ He couldn’t handle going through the pain of having to remember all over again. _

_ So, he survived with his odd jobs, his intermittent meals, and his broken memory, marking everyday that he was free, without hydra. _

_ It wasn’t what he considered to be comfortable or relaxing by any means, but he survived. _

_ And that was that. _

_ It took awhile for him to notice the girls. _

_ Both were short for their age (or at least what he guessed it was) with beat up boots and brand new cellphones.  _

_ Not from around here. _

_ Not normal. _

_ In most cases, he’d have felt on edge with their odd appearance, but wasn't sure of who they could be working for. _

_ Neither S.H.I.E.L.D nor Hydra recruited teenagers. _

_ The Red Room did, but they had no idea he was even alive, so it couldn’t be them. _

_ Besides, the girls were too natural, too off-kilter to be considered as agents.  _

_ He knew what to look for with a Black Widow; whether it be suave or chipper, none of them broke their mask, broke from their idea of confidence. _

_ After seventy years, he could spot it. _

_ And they weren’t it. _

_ They seemed to patrol about, careful enough not to draw suspicion from the average pedestrian, even in as desolate a place as it was.  _

_ They kept their hoods down, their voices low, and their hands at the ready. _

_ But, they could be kind. Showing a brief smile to a kid walking along with parents, or sharing glances with other women in the street, offering to walk home with them. _

_ Little acts of solidarity. _

_ But, they could be harsh. Stinging words aimed at catcallers along with the odd attempted pickpocket, icy glares to those who they happened to find disrespectful, and, once or twice, the odd fight behind an alley. _

_ He’d seen it happen, languidly sitting on the roof of his apartment building for the briefest bit of peace. Watching as one of them had come up behind a mugger, aiming a swift kick in the groin and using his bent over position of pain to her own advantage, slipping in front to throw him off her shoulder. He could see the righteous fury in her eyes, boot placed firmly underneath the ribs, hand still clutching the sleeve. The other one stepped in quietly, helping the victim collect her things and figure out where she was going. As soon as she was safe, they made eye contact and the fighter dropped the sleeve and lifted her boot, walking out arm in arm together. _

_ There was something unnatural about the way the first one fought, somehow both graceful and disjointed. She fought in a manner showing her inexperience, but, at the same time, a strong sense of her knowledge. As if she had known what she was doing, but forgotten, and returned later, surprised at how easily her mind reacted to it. _

_ They were a bizarrely outlandish pair, clumsily traipsing through the streets as if they had nowhere to be, but everywhere to go. Something to keep an eye on, for sure. _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short (I have no constant chapter length).
> 
> Let me know what you think!

To say that the man formerly known as James Buchannan Barnes disliked rain would be an understatement. 

While others enjoyed the rain, sitting in their warm, cozy homes with good books and gallons of tea, he had to walk to and from any jobs he had. And seeing as the only pair of decent rain boots he’d found were bright pink with sunflowers (in a male size twelve no less), he was currently squelching along the sidewalk cursing the names of the weathermen who had spoken the forecast with enough cheeriness to kill a clown). 

Normally, if something inhibited him, he’d kill it.

Believe it or not, you couldn’t kill rain.

So he trudged along, calculating the morning’s income to see if he had enough extra cash for lunch and trying not to recall how Steve had loved the rain back in Brooklyn.

Now was not a time for that.

He’d been so caught up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed the woman coming up close behind him until she grabbed his arm. 

He jerked away, hurridley. Pedestrians seemed to do their best to remain out of his way once they coupled his height and athleticism with the icy, almost unblinking glare he seemed to always have. 

“You dropped your wallet.” She stared at him, brown eyes bored as he took it from her outstretched hand and checked the contents. “I didn’t take anything, before you ask. Believe it or not, some people around here have human decency.” She tossed her long braids over a shoulder and turned down the adjoining alleyway. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Sure, thanks.” She was right. His twenty three dollars and sixteen cents were still there along with a couple punch cards and his (clearly stolen) license. He was about to close it and change his mind about the entirety of the human race being awful (now the entirety of the human race minus her) when something caught his attention.

A small, plastic covered card had somehow lodged itself in the corner of his mess of bills. On closer inspection, it was a playing card, the Queen of Hearts. 

And the back?

A note, black sharpie scrawled the red and white pattern.

Barnes-

Alleyway on York/Luther.

10:00. Tonight.

Need to speak.

-AM


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it! 
> 
> Let me know what you think!

_ For the record, the man formerly known as James Buchannan Barnes had the first thought of running into the night, never to return.  _

_ For all he knew, however, they were counting on that. They already had eyes on him. Some government newbies, probably trying to take the Winter Soldier in without a fight. _

_ Besides, he could handle himself in an alley. _

_ So they could stick him in prison for the rest of his life. _

_ That was (at least) the reasoning behind why he found himself at the alley at 10:03 that evening. _

_ They’d chosen a practically desolate alley in between a bakery and a used bookstore (the most reputable of places in an eight block radius). The closest bar was down the street, meaning they’d wanted some peace and quiet rather than extra back up.  _

_ They were confident in their abilities. _

_ He slipped into the alleyway, half hidden from the inconsistent streetlight a few feet down, shielding him from any half-drunk onlookers that happened to walk past. Pressing his back against a wall, he let himself take in the surroundings.  _

_ The buildings, themselves, were old to the point of crumbling. He figured if he could remember, he probably would have seen them back in the 40s. A few awkward apartments were stacked on each, rusty fire escapes hanging on by a thread.  _

_ No sight of anyone. _

_ “You’re late.” The voice came from the bakery’s back door, slowly stepping out into the light, pastry in hand.  _

_ It would be deceptive to say she was simply small. She wore her stature in a way that made it seem her height was a decision she had pointedly chosen. A wave of blonde hair fell past her shoulders, tied behind her in a messy ponytail and further accentuating her elven features. Two, almost unnaturally, pointed ears peeked out, each carrying a delicate gold earring, something which held a great contrast to the rest of her attire. The light gave way to a pair of beat up leather boots molded to her feet to a degree that showed how long she'd had them. A black coat hugged her figure, covered in pockets and fastened with a mess of buttons, each reflecting differently in the lukewarm light.  _

_ He’d seen that coat before. _

_ “Where’s your partner in crime?” _

_ “On her way.” She bit her lip, fiddling with her phone for a moment before returning it to the maze of pockets. “Amy’s great with higher places.” _

_ He eyed her critically. “What do you mean by that?” _

_ His question was answered by another girl, this time coming from the roof. She stepped off, nonchalantly, outlined dark behind the street lights. Instead of falling with a sickening crunch (something he’d been used to after years as the Winter Soldier), she seemed to float down, hands spread apart as far as she could, arms glued to her sides. _

_ She (Amy?) took a moment to brush herself off before looking at him.  _

_ Like the other, she was small, but, while the other girl had held pride with her stature, Amy didn’t seem to need it. She had a different sort of energy, the sort that made it seem as though she knew exactly what she needed (and what you needed for that matter). Her outfit wasn’t what you’d consider daring, just a simple windbreaker over jeans and some tennis shoes. She wore herself like something necessary that wasn't meant to be any more than practical, temporary.  _

_ Unnerving. _

_ “What do you want?” He glared, mercilessly, a trick he’d learned from Hydra. The sort of face that made most people back away carefully, twittering about how they had the wrong person, we’re sorry sir. _

_ That didn’t work with these two. _

_ Yes, Amy backed up slightly, confidence significantly dimmer. The other one smirked, a playful light dancing across her eyes. _

_ “Rogers didn’t overstate your stare. Though, to be fair, he mostly went on about your eyes.” _

_ The name hit him like a train. (A feeling he could definitely say he knew, seeing as it had happened before. The 1970s were a particularly painful time for the Winter Soldier). “How do you know him?” _

_ “You can relax,” she bit her lip, “I’m not going to turn you into the mercy of the American Bureaucracy. I’m doing this as a favor.” _

_ His gaze darkened. “For him?” _

_ “For you.” _

_ “Look,” he clenched his fist, attempting to avoid looking at the metal arm. _

_ The arm that had betrayed him time and time again. _

_ With people like her. _

_ “I don't know what you think you’re trying to do, but-” _

_ “-I don’t want it, I’m a monster, what I did is unforgivable. You don’t get it.” She stepped forward with every statement until she was inches away, eyes narrowed pointedly as her neck arched up to meet his stare. “I know what it’s like to lose power over everything you have, to submit to whatever psychopath decides he’s in charge today. Yes, I’m small, young, have absolutely no sense of self preservation and yes, I’m annoying as hell. But don’t you dare think I’m naive.”  _

_ He stared down at her, trying to tell himself no. Powered or not, they were kids, liabilities, teenagers. If he and Steve had been that annoying in the 40s, he had no idea how incredibly annoying they’d be now. With every part of him that was forcing him to turn them down, leave the city and start over again, _

_ he couldn’t. _

_ “What are you here to do” _

_ “Help you.” Amy spoke this time, gently pulling her friend back. “We’re here to help you.” _

_ “How?” _

_ “The traditional way.” Her friend relaxed, her entire body seeming to unclench from its previous state of rapt attention. “Your place. Dinner. Tomorrow.” Her hand went to a pocket, extracting an old, delicate, pocket watch. “See you then.”  _

_ He watched as her fingers fiddled with the hands. Then, looping her arm through Amy’s, she snapped it shut. “We need to go, curfew and all.”  _

_ They seemed to phase in and out, almost ghosts with their translucent forms. Then they were gone. _

_ What the hell had he gotten himself into? _


End file.
